


Mockingjay

by HonestCriminal



Series: Mockingjay [1]
Category: Mockingjay series
Genre: Blood, Creepy, Gore, Horror, Multi, Murder, Mystery, Supernatural - Freeform, chilling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonestCriminal/pseuds/HonestCriminal
Summary: This is the story of a man named James and how he came to realize he'd do anything to silence his now most inner demons.





	1. Silence His Demons

It was so dark, I could barely see two feet in front of me. It was quiet, the only thing I could hear was dripping. The sound continued for as long as I could remember, drip... drip... drip... I had no idea where the sound was coming from, but I knew it was somewhere close to me. Like an annoying ticking clock, the sound echoed through the entire building, or... at least the room I was in. I grit my teeth as I felt an extreme pressure on my legs; a pressure so intense I wondered why I didn’t feel any pain accompanied with it. And of course, I  was  about  to  find  out.

You know what, fuck it, let's start from the beginning. My name is James Freeman, I'm 25 years old and I'm a construction worker. Well, I work for things _I_ only need really. Food, beer, cigs and weed. The usual.

The date was... at least from what I remember, March 17th 2011 but I always remember the weather on that day, it was a really sunny morning, it was weirdly _too_ sunny for March. Maybe I remember it so clearly because I didn't realize it'd be the last day I would be... well, uh, sane. _Oh, fuck off._ Don't gimme that look before I even explain myself. _Ass._

The day began as usual, I got up out of bed, threw my work clothes on. Well, technically, I just wore my normal black jeans, black boots, black, leather gloves, and a yellow reflective vest. _Boss' orders and shit._ Anyways, I drank some coffee, black, and soon enough; made my way down the street to the construction site that me and the others workers had been fixing up for past couple of weeks.

I let out a sigh as I walked. My shitty car was in the workshop at the moment. I actually had to walk the fuckin' eight blocks to the site. _Ugh._ I pulled out a cigarette from my pocket and placed it between my lips. I shoved my hand into my other pocket and fiddled around, trying to find my lighter. "Where the fuck did I-"

"Jay!" A man called from behind me.

He pulled my shoulder back as I turned around, "Mikey, hey!" I replied. _Mike_... My best friend. He'd been my best friend for as long as I remember. He's always had my back, just as I always had his. My wing man.

"Off to work as usual?" He laughed slightly, walking at my side.

"Off to work as usual." I repeated, an awkward smile on my face.

"You're going to Danielle's party tonight, right?" He asked, grabbing his phone from his pocket and flicking through his facebook.

"Yeah, obviously I'm goin'. Johnny's bringin’ his best stuff this time." I smirked, making a smoking gesture with my fingers. "You not gunna bail early again this time?" I asked playfully.

"Ah, fuck off." Mike chuckled slightly.

"Where're you goin' anyway? It's 9:30am, shouldn't you be asleep?" I asked, turning to him.

"Ha-ha. I'm just... goin' for a walk is all." He shrugged, nonchalantly. "I got some shit I need to sort out."

"Job interview maybe?" I asked, frowning slightly. Mike's usually the type to jump from job to job; not because he was sloppy, far from it. He went to college with me before I bailed and he followed straight after. None of our other friends stayed either after I left. I didn't see the point and neither did they. _A group of tired out junkies._ No one cared for our bullshit so we didn't care for theirs.

"Hm." Mike hummed a little. "Something like that..." He had something he wanted to say that day but I didn't pressure him. Not even once. If someone has shit they don't wanna say, then whose anyone to pull it outta them?

"Ah. I see." I smiled to him softly before letting out another sigh. I realized this day was gunna be long and hot. _Uuuugh..._

About fifteen minutes later and I got to the construction site, "well, I'll seeya later, man. Good luck with your thing." I spoke, waving at my friend.

"Seeya!" Mike waved back as he walked off.

I sighed and ruffled my brown hair before placing a yellow hard hat on my head and walked over towards the large yet unfinished building. "Yo, Jay!" I heard a man's voice shouted from behind a pole in the building, "I need some rivets from the trailer."

"Alright, man." I replied, walking over to the trailer and grabbed a tool box off the counter. I made my way over to the person calling me. I placed the tool box on the ground as I grabbed some rivets from it and passed it to the man. "What happened to the ceilin' in the main room?" I asked.

"It collapsed. Another ceiling is coming in an hour for us to fix it on." He responded.

"Alright, well, I'm gunna go work in the main room for a while. If you need anythin', just ask." I nodded and walked over to a large room in the building. Metal poles surrounded the room, holding up a few tiles above me and the remaining two walls around it. I got to work and grabbed a hammer from the tool kit, gripping it firmly in my hand and began to hammer nails into the wall.

This was my life, day in and day out, building houses for couples to move into, have a family and most probably break up after having a kid. You know, the usual stuff; and before you ask, no, I don't have a family. My shithead of a mother overdosed when I left what you could barely call a home. Oh, don't pretend to be sympathetic. It's fuckin' sad. Besides, I only really need is my weed and... Mike. ... _Mike_. That guy was truly the only person and friend I needed in this bullshit world, if I had to be honest. I had other friends, of course, but Mike was the only one who really gave a shit about me. I wasn't sure what I did to deserve him as my best friend but I was glad.

Two hours went by and I was almost finished fixing a ceiling on the main room. I continued to hammer the tiles into the wood between them that held them into place. "Jay!!" The man shouted again.

I missed the nail after hearing him shout and hit the hammer on my thumb, "FUCK!" I shouted, " _what?!_ "

__"Are you nearly done?!" He shouted back._ _

My eye twitched in anger a little at how unappreciative these pricks were. But I couldn't quit, this has been my job since I was 18. So, like I do with every other shithead in this this world; I compromise. I closed my eyes and breathed, "Yeah." I replied, "I'm nearly done." I rolled my blue eyes and continued to hammer the ground below me.

A few minutes went by and I stopped hammering, wiping the sweat off my forehead and taking my hard hat off, I glanced over to the trailer. I waved my arm, calling for my boss to come over. "Hey, I'm done!" I shouted.

I heard the sweet patter of footsteps run over as I looked down and saw my boss and the other construction workers below me. I smiled and jumped down, landing in front of them. "Nice work, Jay." My boss smiled.

I closed by eyes as I smiled, only to hear a huge cracking sound above me. The ceiling quickly caved in on us. I remember having a large concrete slate land on my head, knocking me out clean.

I woke up about half an hour later, I couldn't move. My body was numb and I could barely see a thing. "Phil!" I called out. "Frank?!" I shouted, trying to see if anyone was actually alive. The ticking... That irritating dripping sound just kept getting louder and it felt like a hammer on my head every time it made a sound.

I heard a voice scratching at my brain, " _your fault... your fault._ " I quickly tried to move, pushing the large concrete in front of me that pushed me against a wall behind me. I winced, holding my left eye. It felt gooey and I moved my hand to see blood pooled in the center of my palm. _A lot of it._ " ** _Aaaah!_** " I screamed, quickly closing my left eye. I searched the dust filled room. "PHIL!!! FRANK!!!" I yelled. "Oh fuck, _oh fuck._ "

There they were... Phil, Frank and Gregg... All my work friends laying on the floor with their eyes gauged out, head and every fucking limb of their body smashed in. Trembling, I quickly backed away. My legs became weak as I fell to the ground. "Oh fuck, please no!! You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me! This can't be happenin', this can't be happenin'..."

" _Your fault... Your fault...!_ " The voice in my head got louder with every waking second.

Both my eyes shot right back open again as I fell to the ground; my head began throbbing like crazy. I held the palm of my hands against my head to stop it, but it wouldn't. That voice... almost seemed familiar but I was too stressed to even listen to it completely. It was getting difficult to stand, I was too weak, like my legs were about to give way... But I couldn't kneel down because all I could see was red on the ground. So much blood... I– I  couldn't  do  anything.

" **YOUR FAULT!** " The voice screamed at high volume in my head.

" ** _SHUT_ _THE_ _FUCK_ _UP_!**" I shouted back. I pushed my hands against my ears only to feel blood dripping down the sides of my head. "What the fuck is happening..." I murmured. I ran my hands up the side of my head, trembling, I feel something hard. A hammer, _the_ hammer I was using earlier was sitting right through my head. "There's no way... There's no way..." I kept chanting. I couldn't believe I was even alive at this point.

" _YOUR FAULT. YOUR FAULT. YOUR FAULT._ " The voice kept screaming in my head, over and over again.

"Jay! Holy shit!" I heard a voice calling out to me, I could barely hear it through the chants of the itchy voice inside my head. "Jay! Are you okay?!"

" ** _YOUR FAULT!!!_** "

I quickly grabbed the hammer from the side of my head and pulled it out, tears beginning to fill my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I looked down at it, covered in blood; the hammer that sat inside my head is now laying in my fingers. "I-It's my f... fault..." I mumbled. I swung the hammer round in anger. "IT'S MY FAULT!!"

Thud. Splat. **Thud.**

My eyes widened to see I hit the hammer at Mike's face. Blood dripping down his nose and slowly dripping out of his mouth, he fell to the floor. My eyes widened as I fell to the ground, crawling over towards him as the pounding in my head grew worse. " _Mikey... don't leave me...!_ " I cried. No answer. "Mike...!" The hammer fell from my hands. " **MIKE, NO!** " I hit his chest over and over again. "WAKE UP. _WAKE UP. **WAKE UP. PLEASE.** Mikey...!_"

It then got quiet. The voice in my head had stopped. The pounding in my head subsided. Silence. I looked down at Mike's lifeless body as my vision became blurry. My whole body collapsed and my head fell on Mike's bloody chest. No heartbeat... No voices. That's when I realized that the only way to silence these thoughts... was carnage.


	2. Mike

_May 29th 2011._

"Breaking news: four men found dead in Trow Inn hotel lobby last night at 2am." The news reporter spoke. I sat there staring at a small T.V monitor that sat in the middle of a hotel room, a frown on my worn out face. " _N-Not my fault..._ " I hissed under my breath. The room was dark and dull, the light bulb that hung in the center of the room was broken, the only shed of light coming from the T.V. The T.V. then turned off, a loud white noise emanating from the speakers.

I slowly got up and tied my hair into a small pony tail at the nape of my neck. My hair started to turn silver from... shit, I guess the stress, though a few brown locks fell in front of my face when I pulled it back. "Mikey... It's- It's quiet. Do you think we can leave now?" I asked, forcing out a small smile. It was at this point, I'd lost all hope in believing there was any way out of this. I'd killed at least seven people then since the voice started echoing in my brain.

"Sure, Jay." Mike, standing next to me, finally spoke up. Mike just being there was the most calm I ever got out of all this. I truly believed and knew he wouldn't leave me like this.

I walked over towards the door as I gripped the handle, blood staining the steel as I opened the door. I slouched slightly as I made my way down the dark hallway. "Heh... You hear this, Mikey?" I called. "It's finally quiet."

I stumbled slightly down the stairs and towards the two glass doors of the hotel. I paused for a moment as I glanced around the area. The voice had finally been silenced once again. I let out a sigh of relief. This was the only time I ever felt true peacefulness anymore. I looked out the glass doors; the streets were empty and dark. The perfect time to go-

 

  _"...Your... fault..."_

 

"NO!! _SHUT UP!!_ " I shouted out loud, pushing my hands to the side of my head. "P-Please, j-just a little longer!"

 

_"Your fault..."_

 

"Hey, you there!" A voice in front of me called. "What are you doing he-" He froze in his place. He watched as I stared at him, tears running down my cheeks.

"I’m sorry...” I spoke quietly, putting my hand out. "I-I have to do this..."

"Who the hell are you...!?" The man spoke, backing away.

  _"Your fault... Your fault!"_

" _I’m_ _sorry_...” I pulled the hammer from my back pocket, the blood stains on the hammer becoming more visible to the man in front of me. "It's my fault, I’m sorry!" I shouted, lunging my hammer towards the man. He jumped back and reached for the back of his jeans, pulling out a pistol. He must've been a cop.

"Hey! Don't come any closer!" The man shouted, a strong sense of authority in his voice. Definitely a cop.

_"_ _Your fault! YOUR FAULT!"_

I ran over towards the man only for him to start shooting at me. A few of the bullets hit my chest, leaving blood to trickle down my yellow jacket. I quickly swung the hammer at his face, hitting him over and over again. "It's my fault! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!" I just kept hitting him so much that he would be barely recognizable at this point. "I'm sorry, _I'm_ _sorry!_ " I shouted, the man's crimson red blood landing on my vest.

And the voice stopped once more.

_Silence._

I sat there as the man's blood dripped down my face.

“Jay...”

I looked up to see Mike standing by my side, a weak smile on his blood stained face. He gently placed his hand on my back.

"It's... not your fault."


	3. Loud Silence

_September 4th 2015_

Well... The voice wasn't inside my head anymore. I hurt so many people now that the voice is no longer even a problem. I figured out by then that it wasn't flat out murder that made the voices subside, it was the _blood_. The more blood, the quieter the voices, remember? It... actually turned me fuckin' crazy. I wanted to spill so much blood. The mess, the reactions. I didn't do it anymore because I had to. _I wanted to._ Like it became... _second nature.  
  
_"You're a fucking animal." A man growled at me from across the room. He was tied to a support beam in the center of the room. Room... Basement. Didn't really matter to me. ...That was a lie. To do my duty in that basement was annoying. But of course, if I wanted to do this, I had to be somewhere secluded. Clearly a couple of girls didn't mind as much. Hey, I still have normal human needs. With consent, of course. I'm not _that_ evil.  
  
I know what you were just thinking. Typical. The  curse  made  serial  killer ends up like the rest; killing in a basement. Well, I'd like to say that, even now as I write this, if you still think that, _fuck you_. I'd like to you see you come up with a different plan! ...What? I should've just asked Mikey? Ah, well, you see... About that...  
  
"I'm not an animal." I replied to the man. "I'm just... a little crazy. But then again, we all gotta be a little crazy if we're down here."  
  
"I'm not crazy, you piece of shit." The man spat at me.  
  
"You must be." I raised an eyebrow at him, "otherwise you wouldn't have followed me knowin' _exactly_ who I was."  
  
I thought I was crazy. I mean, I was. I _am_. I killed Mike back in March. Shot to the head... (and you're to blame), _heh,_ but seriously, I actually... fuck, I actually killed him. And... begun this pattern. It all started with Mikey and then... it continued. Like a lone wolf being hunted by a hunter that ceased to exist. Probably a bad metaphor but it's what it felt like. When you're in the sun and it makes your skin itch like crazy... Imagine having to try and resist that itch every single day. But there was no sun. Just darkness. An   itch   that   would   never   go   away.   
  
"I... needed to know." The man replied. He spat, trying to get rid of the blood from his mouth. Oh, easy now, I didn't hit him _that_ hard.  
  
"Needed to know?" I asked, "well, here I am. Confirmed that I am, in fact," I looked down at my leather gloved hands, "Jay Freeman."  
  
"..."  
  
"No, what is it you're all callin' me now?" I chuckled as I walked closer to him, "Mockingjay, right?"  
  
"You don't mock." He mumbled.  
  
"What? I couldn't catch tha-"  
  
" ** _I said you don't mock!_** You're just an asshole! **_A crazy asshole!_** "  
  
I hummed a little before bringing my gloved finger to my chin and scratching my beard. "You know, Bradley... You could be right." I shook my head, "but then again, I didn't come up with the name."  
  
"Maybe you did."  
  
I bent down in front of him and grabbed him by the collar. "Hm, no." I paused, "...Wasn't   my   fault."

 


End file.
